


Will You Still Love Me If I'm Broken?

by Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin, NaughtyPastryChef



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, ED - Freeform, Erectile Dysfunction, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Massage, Morning Wood, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:34:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5745769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin/pseuds/Lopsided_Whiskey_Grin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/pseuds/NaughtyPastryChef
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Wincest one-shot that developed from this prompt: I'm in an angsty mood today. Therefore, let’s look at this picture and imagine Dean is sitting there on the bed in the motel room he is sharing with Sam after they had attempted intimacy and Dean experienced his first episode of Erectile Dysfunction. Sam is trying to tell him is okay, that it happens sometimes, but Dean can't help but feel that there's something wrong with him, that he's broken.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Still Love Me If I'm Broken?

 

                                                                                            

 

 

 

Dean is horrified, so embarrassed. He's young and healthy and fucking hot for it and there is no goddamn reason why his dick won't work. He tries to force it and when that doesn't work he screams at Sam to leave him alone before locking himself in the bathroom.

Sam doesn't care beyond worry. Does he want to get fucked by Dean? Of course, but he's more concerned as to what happened. He grabs his pants and the keys to the Impala and heads to a library to find out why.

Dean hears the door close on the other side of the bathroom as he's leaning over the sink with his hands gripping the slippery porcelain tightly. The sound of that door closing resonates so loudly. Sam left. Not like Dean didn't just scream at him to do just that, but still. Dark, irrational doubt settles in Dean's mind like a black cloud. Sam doesn't want him anymore. Who would? A guy that can't even get it up? Jesus.

  
Dean shakes his head and looks at his reflection in the mirror. He's not as young as used to be, but fuck, wasn't that something that happened to old guys? 

  
Sighing and closing his eyes, Dean tries to resign himself to the fact that Sam might not come back. But what is he gonna do if Sam  _ doesn't _ come back? He can't survive without Sam.

His angst is so heavy, such a dark consuming cloud hanging over him, that he doesn't hear the sound of his baby's engine, nor does it register that if Sam is taking the Impala, he will certainly come back.

  
He's tried to live without Sam before and it doesn't work. But Sam couldn't want him so damaged, so fucked up. He tries to make himself accept that as long as Sam doesn't leave totally, he can be okay stepping back and letting Sam be with someone else. He can watch that, he did it before. It'll rip his heart out but he can do it.

After what seems like an eternity in the bathroom wallowing in his own self pity, Dean decides to emerge and dress himself. He can do this, he keeps telling himself. He can tell Sam that it's okay if he wants to be with someone else, someone who can actually give him what he needs. Sam deserves that much. 

  
His heart is breaking apart in his chest though the more he thinks about it and tears start to burn at the backs of his eyes as he sits on the foot of the bed and puts his socks on. But really, what choice does he have?

  
He hears the Impala pull back into the parking spot and stands, pulling his shaking hands into fists at his sides, trying to brace himself for this even as his chest is aching with each breath. He feels like he might shatter apart but he forces his feelings off his face. Shoving the it all down into a ball in his stomach, he grabs a bottle of whiskey off the bedside table to smother it further.

  
He's gotten two big gulps in and is working on a third when the door opens and he has to force himself not to look up and see his Sam, for the last time that he is "his" Sam. All because his fucking dick wouldn't work. What the fuck is wrong with him?

Sam has barely made it over the threshold carrying a six pack and a bag of Dean's favorite greasy burgers before Dean is advancing on him with a desperate look in his eyes even though he is trying to hide it. Sam knows all of Dean's expressions, even the ones he tries to shut down. 

  
"Sammy," he says, his voice gruff but strained and rushed sounding. "I totally understand if you want to find someone else, someone who can uh, perform. I won't hold it against you at all." 

  
The words tumble from Dean's mouth like water from a busted dam and Sam is taken aback. 

  
"What? Dean, why would you think I would want that?  _ Ever _ ?"

"You... We're... I mean. I'm broken in so many ways and you've just put up with it or ignored it or tried to fix me for so long but you're still young and you're so beautiful..." Dean trails off, throat closed with emotion and pain. 

Cause Sam  _ is _ so beautiful, in and out. He can find someone who deserved him. Who can give him everything. He should do all those things and Dean is going to say so just as soon as he can breathe again. 

  
He sobs, just once, before cutting himself off and turning away from Sammy, trying to find himself. He never hears Sam putting the beer and burgers on the table or coming up behind him. He nearly jumps in the air when strong hands wrap around his biceps from behind and pull him back into the solid wall of Sam's chest.

Sam bends his head forward, pressing a kiss to Dean's hair and pulling in a deep breath of his scent. How can Dean even be thinking these things? How he can he even think Sam didn't want him? His heart hurts just imagining the pained thoughts that must be going through Dean's mind. 

  
"Listen to me, Dean. There will never come a time that I won't want you. You're mine, no matter what happens." He wraps his arms around Dean's chest and tugs him even closer. "Can we sit down and talk? I found out some stuff at the library that I think will help"

He refuses to give Dean a chance to even think. Placing kisses along the side of Dean's head, then along Dean's neck, Sam steers his big brother to sit down on the side of the bed.

  
"I think you might be stressed. So here's what we're gonna do," Sam starts in between kisses and buttons coming undone on Dean's shirt. "We are gonna have some burgers and a few beers. You are gonna let me talk without trying to run away or push me away or decide that you're broken and I deserve something better, idiot. There's nothing better than you, except you and me."

  
Sam begins to kiss down the center of Dean's chest, pressing him to lay on his back on the bed with each button he has undone.

"Sammy no, I'm broken, I don't-"

Sam slips his fingers onto Dean's lips, cutting him off. "What did I just say?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow. "You're gonna let me talk, okay?” He waits until Dean nods before he pulls his fingers back. 

  
Sitting up on his knees beside Dean on the bed, he watches as a slow smile creeps across Dean's face. It’s a small smile but it’s there nonetheless. He stands beside the bed and holds his hand out, beckoning to his love. 

  
"Let's eat," he says.

Dean forces himself to sit at the table and take a few bites and lets Sam talk, though he isn’t really listening in the beginning, only soaking up the sight and the feeling of being the center of Sam's attention. He needs to memorize it for when it was no longer his.

  
"So we've been going non-stop for a while,” Sam says, “Haven't been back to the bunker for months, not even for a change of clothes. You're tired, you're stressed, and you're overthinking it. The more you think of it, the worse it'll be. So, we are gonna relax and we are gonna head back to the bunker and you're gonna let me take care of you. You're gonna let me make you relax. You're gonna let me convince you that I'll never go anywhere. Finish your beer, then lie down on your stomach on the bed, I'm gonna rub you down and kiss you all over."

A shiver runs through Dean's body at Sam's words and the nearly commanding tone of his voice. He can’t really deny Sam's reasoning; they had been quite literally run ragged lately. But can stress really be the cause of his "problem"? 

  
Swallowing thickly, his glance flicks over to the bed as he holds his beer bottle in a tight grip. "Sam I don't know if that will help. If you're expecting me to be able to...."

  
Sam sighs gently and pulls Dean's hands into his own. "A massage and kissing doesn't always lead to sex, Dean," he says softly. "Just let me take care of you. Please. Don't you remember what it was like to just kiss and hold someone for the sake of kissing? To be close to someone else?" 

It is not longer after that when Dean strips down to his jeans and socks and lays belly down on the bed. Sam smooths his hands down Dean's spine and he leans over his brother’s naked back and presses soft, gentle kisses into his neck at the hairline.

  
"Sometimes, it's nice to just kiss. Just reconnect. Relax and hold someone and not think about where it's gonna go. Be together without orgasms. Dean. I have to tell you a secret," Sam whispers into Dean’s ear as he rubs strong thumbs into the tight muscles of Dean’s lower back.

Dean nods lazily, waiting to hear Sam’s secret, his body relaxed and calm for the first time in what feels like forever.

  
"I like orgasms,” Sam says, “Love em, in fact. But if it's a choice between you and orgasms, I'll choose you every. Single. Time. " He punctuates his statement with soft lipped, open mouthed kisses across Dean’s shoulders.

Dean's breath hitches softly as he lets Sam's words sink in. He’s right. But when isn’t he? His brainy little brother always seems to know exactly how to fix things. It has been so long since they had just been  _ intimate _ with each other. Sex between them is always so rushed, whether because of time constraints or the fact that they are just so hungry for it. But intimacy, just holding each other, just being with each other, is something that has fallen by the wayside.

Not anymore. 

  
Dean nuzzles a little deeper into the mattress as Sam's long, dexterous fingers continue to work into the knots in Dean's shoulders and back. He feels the stirrings of an erection for just a moment before he goes soft again. But he tries not to feel discouraged; he keeps reminding himself of what Sam said: he is thinking about it too hard and is under too much stress. And besides, this isn’t about getting to the finish line, not right now. This is just about the two of them reconnecting.

Sam pushes up onto his hands and knees, coaxing Dean over onto his back before lowering himself back down on top of him. Dean smiles sleepily and wraps his arms around Sam's back, pressing his face into the hollow between Sam's neck and shoulder.

  
"Mmm, Sammy," Dean mumbles, relaxed for the first time in what feels like eons. He feels more kisses pressed into his neck as he smiles and returns them on Sam's neck.

  
Sam lifts himself up again to strip off his shirts so they can feel some skin on skin. He feels Dean’s hands drop to his hips, fingertips slipping under the waistband of his jeans and he groans. "How about we strip down to our underwear and crawl under the covers and  just make out like teenagers?" he asks.

Dean nods and gives Sam a slow, lopsided smile. He pushes back up against the headboard then scoots under the comforter and sheets. When he is under the covers and laid on his back he lifts his hips to shimmy out of his jeans but leaves his black boxer briefs on. 

  
Sam soon joins him under the blankets and their bodies come together again almost skin to skin except for their boxers and Dean’s socks. Dean nuzzles his face into the crook of Sam's neck from where he lay on his side and begins pressing languid kisses all along Sam's jaw.

Sam smiles into the pillow, shuffling his body to cover Dean’s completely. He rubs his hands up and down Dean’s naked sides, ribs to boxer waistband, reveling in the feeling of hot, smooth skin under his calloused hands. He turns his head to capture Dean’s lips, pressing them together softly but insistently.

  
"Want you more than anything else. You're so gorgeous. So amazing. So wonderful, big brother."

Dean flushes warmly under the praise, his heart full to bursting with love for Sam. What has he done in his life to deserve a man like this? Bringing his hands up to Sam's cheeks, Dean suckles at his bottom lip, relishing in the familiar feel of stubble scraping his chin. Normally by this point, Dean would be frantic, rolling his hips toward Sam, licking deep into his mouth, urgent and wild to get off. But not tonight. This is meant to be slow, soft, seductive. And so Dean takes his time, using just his mouth against Sam to wordlessly express just how damn much he loves him.

Sam revels in the feeling of Dean’s muscled, hot body against his own. The taste of Dean's mouth, the sounds issuing from the back of his throat. He loves it all. Stroking his hands up and down Dean’s sides as he lays on top of him, Sam pulls back a bit and just looks down at the beloved flushed face.

  
"How long has it been since we could take our time? Since we weren't rushing to get our dicks out?" Sam breathes as Dean’s eyes flutter and he huffs out an aroused laugh in response.

"Too fucking long," Dean admits.

He looks up at Sam's face, taking his time in looking over all the angles and curves. They are all so familiar to him, and yet there are more wrinkles around his eyes and creasing between his brows than he remembers. He imagines Sam sees the same in him; they have both been through so much in their lives. 

  
And that is precisely why this reprieve is so very important. He needs to get to know Sammy again, needs to know himself again.

  
Dean smiles up at Sam and brushes a lock of hair from his eyes. "Too fucking long," he says again, his voice hoarse with emotion. 

 

He brings his mouth up to Sammy's again, moving his lips slowly. He takes a long deep pull and licks his tongue faintly over Sam's bottom lip in a tentative stroke that is almost timid. So caught up in the intimacy, the sweetness, and the heat of Sam's body covering his completely, Dean doesn’t even notice as he begins to drift to sleep.

  
Luckily Sam does, and with a smile, he gives one more lingering kiss to Dean’s kiss bruised, slackened lips and slides to the side, so that he can pull Dean into his arms and hold him. Since Dean is already asleep, Sam takes advantage and makes Dean the little spoon, tucking his half-hard cock up against the cheeks of Dean’s ass and kissing the back of his neck.

Dean stirs for a moment at the feel of Sam's mouth against the back of his neck and wraps his arms around Sam's where they are crossed over his chest. He pulls closer into the warmth and safety Sam offers him. He drifts back into a slumber that is as restful as any night of sleep he's ever had.

In the morning, Dean wakes up feeling warm, relaxed, and more well-rested than he's felt in years, maybe a decade. He takes stock of his surroundings before he even opens his eyes. He is in his boxers, his feet and legs tangled with Sam's longer ones. Sam's octopus-like arms are curled around his torso and he can feel Sam's hot breath on the back of his neck.

  
But that’s not all he can feel. Sam's long, hot cock is pressed between the globes of his ass, separated from skin contact by only two thin layers of cotton. Finally though he feels his own cock, hard and getting harder as he thinks about what Sam could do to him. 

With that, Dean’s eyes fly wide open and he gasps aloud.   


Sam jerks awake behind him at the sound, instinctively pulling Dean against him tighter.    
"What's wrong?" he asks, his heart picking up speed with worry for his brother.

"Fuckin’ want you, baby boy, and my body is gonna let me follow through with that," Dean rasps as he grinds his ass back into Sam's crotch.   
  
Sam inhales the scent of Dean’s hair, where his nose is buried. He presses a shaky kiss into the top of Dean’s head with a moaned, "oh yeah? What about what we talked about last night?"

  
Dean huffs out a laugh and squirms around to face Sam, making sure to rub up against as many of his erogenous zones as possible while he does so. "Last night was great, meant a lot to me, and was a nice change. But ALL of me is up for you right now, baby."

Sam groans and pushes Dean down onto his back so he can straddle him. Helping Dean shimmy out of his boxers, he hooks his big brother's ankles up on his shoulders and sees that he is indeed all up. 

  
Dean reaches to the bedside table and passes Sam a bottle of lube which he quickly squirts generously into his palm to warm then coats his fingers with the liquid. He snakes his hand between them and deftly finds Dean's hole. He lets his wet fingers hover over the puckered entrance for a moment, bringing his gaze up to Dean's. 

"Ready?" he asks, though he already knows the answer to that question.

Dean feels himself whine out a pathetic "please" as he tries to roll his hips down onto Sam's fingers. He digs his heels into Sam's shoulder and levers his whole body upwards, trying to entice Sam into moving.

  
"Oh you know that's what I like, that begging," Sam teases as he rubbed Dean’s rim, the muscle softening as he goes.

  
"Fuckin’ do it, Sammy, or I'll get up and help myself." Dean tries for commanding but misses the mark by a mile and they both know it.

  
"You're not going anywhere till I'm done with you," Sam smiles as he finally,  _ finally, _ gets one finger in.

Dean shudders violently under Sam's touch and feels his cock throb with anticipation. His hands fist into the sheets beneath him as he watches, and feels, Sam work him open. Another finger is added not long after the first and Dean swears he sees stars explode behind his eyelids when he screws his eyes shut.    
  


Sam crooks his fingers inside Dean as he continues pumping in and out of his ass and Dean opens his eyes just in time to see his cock bead out a thick blurt of precome. He moans Sam's name and digs his hands tighter into the sheets.

"Sammysammysammysammy please," Dean whines incoherently, wiggling as best he can to entice Sam to just get on with it already.

  
"You ready big brother? Want your baby brother to drill your ass? Wanna come on my cock? Hmmm, you want my cock?" Sam husks, pulling his fingers out and swiping his lubed up hand across his cock.

  
What Dean tries to say is "Yes you fucking bastard, I've _ been _ ready, get your big cock in me." What actually comes out of him is "hnnnngh" and more hip wiggling as Sam tries to line up his cock and press in.

Sam slips on his first try, having to hold a steadying hand on Dean's hip so he can actually start to wedge his dick inside. He pushes in at a steady pace, feeling Dean's body suck him in. 

  
Both men moan when Sam finally bottoms out. He gives a few shallow thrusts to give Dean time to adjust and then with one glance to the desperate and hungry look on Dean's face he unleashes all the pent up desire that had been tying knots in his belly since he woke with a raging hard on. 

Those first few shallow thrusts quickly morph into deep, brutal strokes, the force of which push Dean all the way up the mattress and send his proudly erect cock bouncing up toward his stomach.    


Sam lets out a deep growl and yanks Dean up toward him, situating him on his lap as he continues to thrust up into his ass. "Feel that, Dean? Feel how deep I am?"

Dean folds his legs under his body so that he can ride Sam. His cock bobs with each movement, the swollen, dripping tip dragging against the rippling, sweaty muscles of Sam's stomach.

  
"Fuckfuckfuck god yes. Come in me. Mark me up from the inside. God I could ride you for days. Wanna feel this for a week, fuck me, baby boy," Dean grunts as he rides Sam as hard as he can, slamming himself down over and over so that each thrust is rubbing right against his prostate and setting off fireworks in his blood and behind his eyes.

  
Sam groans and grips Dean’s hips hard, his biceps bulging as he helps Dean move up and down on his straining member.. "Nothing but my cock, Dean. Not gonna touch your dick, you're gonna come on just my cock, you got that?"

Dean clamps down on Sam's tensing shoulders, feeling the steely bunch of the muscles just under the skin. He nods his understanding, catching his bottom lip between his teeth to stop the whimper he can feel rising in his throat. He wants so badly to take his cock in his hand and just strip it raw but he follows Sam's orders, knowing it won’t take him long at all if he keeps hitting his prostate like that. 

  
But then a little flicker of doubt flashes white hot in his mind, stuttering all movement. What if the same thing happens like yesterday? What if right before he is about to come he just goes soft again? What if what if what if….

  
Sam immediately sees the change in Dean's face and feels a lag in the tempo of his thrusts. He quickly brings a hand up to the back of Dean's head and pulls tightly on the short hairs near the nape. "Don't do this to me, Dean," he pleads. "Just focus on me."

With a whimper and a wince, Dean forces his eyes open. He bites down hard on his bottom lip and stares into Sam's eyes, forcing the doubt away. Sam smirks at him before tilting forward and nipping Dean’s bottom lip between his own teeth.

  
"You're so fuckin’ sexy like this, you know? Feel my cock throbbing inside you? Feel how deep inside you I am? Roll your hips, baby. Feels so good. Want me to come all inside you? Mark you up and make you mine again and again? Speak up, big brother."

  
Dean lets his eyes drift half way closed and his head falls backwards as he releases a groan at the ceiling. He's always been a sucker for Sammy's dirty talk; his voice growling in Dean’s ear, saying the most filthy depraved things as the head of Sam's cock rubs across his prostate.

Sam's large hands slide from Dean's hips to grasp his ass cheeks. He watches his big brother ride him, knowing he is lost in all that dirty talk. He continues with the filthy words as his orgasm coils in his gut like a spring, drawing his heavy balls up close to his body in anticipation. 

  
"Such a slut for this dick, aren't you, Dean? Love the way it just stretches you open, love the way it makes you sore? And you always want more. You're like a goddamn Timex; takes a lickin' and keeps on ticking." 

  
Sweat trickles down Sam's back as he keeps bouncing Dean on his cock, his release so fucking close. "You ready, Dean? Ready for me to fill you up? I'm gonna come so deep inside you, you're gonna taste my spunk on the back of your tongue."

"God fuck, Sammy, yes," Dean gasps as he feels himself clench up and come all over their sweaty, pressed together bellies. 

From the aborted attempt the day before and the worry just now and Sam's dirty talk it feels even more explosive. Dean’s vision whites out as he slumps in Sam's hold like a rag doll, with the fact that Sam keeps fucking into him, holding him up and throwing him around lighting a fire under his skin and prolonging it.

  
Sam slams Dean’s limp body up and down on his cock, using Dean to seek his own orgasm now that Dean had his.

Dean is depleted, it is so plain to see and Sam takes great satisfaction in the fact that he has been the one to help him to the finish line. But the slack body in his arms is getting harder and harder to hold up. He releases his hold on Dean's ass and Dean instantly falls back on the bed. Sam follows him down seamlessly, never pulling his cock from Dean's trembling hole with the movement. He latches onto Dean's spread thighs, pushed them even wider.

  
Dean stares up at him, his mouth slack with awe, his stomach and chest shiny with come and sweat. 

  
A growl rips from Sam's throat and he drives in as deep as he can go, over and over again, his knees slipping back on the sheets with the effort. And then Dean rubs his fingers in the spend striping his belly, bringing them to Sam's mouth and pushing them past his lips. Dean's taste explodes across his tongue and Sam shatters apart into a million pieces. 

He slams his hips up against Dean's ass with a rough finality and tenses as he pumps his load so deep inside his brother. Dean's asshole flutters around Sam's pulsing cock, milking him dry. And with a final dirty grind of his hips, Sam drops bodily onto the bed and onto the lax body of his fucked out brother. 

  
Dean comes back around to Sam laying on top of him, mouthing at the sweat on his neck. It takes him a moment to realize that the whines and whimpers permeating the room are coming from him. Sam growls into his skin and fucks his hips in and out one more time before pulling back and rolling Dean up so he can get his face between his legs and see his puffy, pink, drippingly used hole.

"God, Dean," he mutters. "Just look at you. So fuckin sexy. And you're mine, all mine." 

  
Curling forward, he goes in for a taste. He is helpless not to. And jesus it is exquisite.    
He looks up at Dean, his mouth shiny and slick and makes a show of licking his lips. "So delicious, baby. "

The feeling of Sam's lips and tongue on his swollen pink rim, licking his own come out sets sparks going off in Dean’s veins. He actually feels his spent cock twitch with pleasure.

  
"Oh shit Sammy. That's... That's... So fucking nasty and sexy, " he whines and wiggled his hips, not knowing if he is asking for more or less, just knowing he is asking for something. "I think you fixed my problem, baby boy."

Sam grins against Dean's skin, bringing up his hands and dragging his fingernails down the insides of Dean's quivering thighs. “Let's just make sure.”


End file.
